by Harper Bliss
Nadia grabbed her phone, scrolled away the missed calls from Juliette, and texted Margot. Half an hour later she had a date set up with her friend and a bottle of Pauillac.
* * *
“Damn,” Margot said. “I met her briefly when she visited last time.”
“I personally have no issue with her being there. I have no emotional ties to her and we were very clear on the nature of our encounter from the start, but Juliette will have a fit. I know her. She can’t help herself. And I can’t really blame her.”
“She and Claire can compare notes then. Which one of them was hurt the most?” Margot sounded more bitter than usual. When she had just arrived, she had announced that she’d taken a taxi, and that she wasn’t leaving until that bottle was finished. Little did she know that Nadia could easily knock back a bottle by herself. But the way she behaved made it clear to Nadia that she was hurting.
“Have you, huh, made any progress with Claire?”
“No. We’re on a break. I don’t know. She may as well have already decided to break up with me, or to fuck someone else. Either way, I have a pretty clear idea of which direction we’re headed in.”
That deal they’d shook on in the hospital cafeteria the day before yesterday had not gone into effect just yet—for either one of them.
“What happened to your fighting spirit? To talking some sense into Claire?” Nadia asked.
“I’m half-tipsy now. It tends to deflate me somewhat.”
Nadia checked her watch. It wasn’t very late yet and Claire and Juliette were probably both still at the office, solving some PR crisis. She refilled Margot’s glass.
“I’ve kept a low romantic profile for a long time. And it worked. I mean, I wasn’t overjoyed or living in ecstasy, but I was doing the job that I love and I was balanced. I was happy in my own way. Looking back, I had such good reason to live my life that way. Look at me now? I’m not a half bottle of wine per night kind of girl. And I need my sleep. People’s lives depend on me. If I don’t get a good night’s sleep, I put them in harm’s way. Seriously, Nadz, you’re more experienced at this than I am. Tell me, is it all worth it in the end?”
“Of course it is. Jules and I have hurt each other. We’ve made mistakes. But our relationship is the best thing in my life, by a very wide margin.”
“And you’re convinced Juliette feels the same way?”
Nadia was momentarily taken aback by Margot’s uncharacteristic snideness. Maybe there was a reason she didn’t drink very much. “Of course I am.” Was she, though? With Juliette having just broken another promise of working less and spending more time with her soon-to-be wife. She may have good reason, but didn’t she always?
Then, sounds in the hallway startled her. It was only seven-thirty. Was Juliette home already?
“Babe,” she called from the front door. “I have Claire with me.”
“Merde,” Margot said.
“Hold on.” Nadia gestured at Margot to stay put and ventured into the hallway.
“I thought you were working late again. Margot’s here.” There was no way for Nadia to say this without Claire overhearing her.
“I called you.” There was a definite edge to Juliette’s tone.
“Yeah. I know. I figured it was to—”
“Bertrand is in hospital. Heart attack. My brother came to the office especially to tell me.”
“What?” Nadia didn’t immediately know who Juliette was referring to and it took a second before she registered the name as Juliette’s father’s. He’d never been a big topic of conversation in their lives. “Your dad?” She exchanged a worried glance with Claire.
“If you’d picked up your phone, I would have told you all about it.”
“I’m sorry. I was in a board meeting that went on forever.” Nadia stepped closer to Juliette. She’d be sulking for a while, but Nadia would hug her anyway. “Come here, babe.”
“Did you say Margot is in there?” Claire was still standing behind them. “I should probably say hello. Would be rude not to.”
“Go on through,” Nadia said, adding ‘no drama, please’ in her head.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she whispered in Juliette’s ear after Claire had walked past them.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? He may be my father, but I stopped caring a long time ago. Why would I care about someone who had no room for me in his life because of who I love? I’m fucking fine. The world will be a better place without him.”
From the things she was saying, and the way she said them, Nadia could easily derive that Juliette was anything but okay, but she also realised that, in her fiancée’s case, it had been the wrong question to ask.
“Come on. Let’s have some wine. We can kick them out if you want to be alone.”
“You know what he once said to me?” Juliette held onto Nadia’s arm. “You’re such a smart and pretty girl, Juliette. You could do so well. Don’t do this to yourself.”
Juliette had never been very open about her parents and how her relationship with them had deteriorated long before she’d met Nadia, but Nadia knew the broad strokes.
They’d divorced when Juliette was fifteen. Her mother had moved away and Juliette had chosen to stay with her dad in Lille, which wasn’t too bad until, after university, she’d decided to tell him she was a lesbian. Both Bertrand and François had made their feelings about that known very clearly, driving their daughter and sister away from them in the process. Nadia had tried to wrap her mind around it, but she simply couldn’t imagine how Juliette’s own flesh and blood could, firstly, react in that manner, and—even more stupefying—keep it up for more than two decades.
After the divorce, Juliette saw her mother during holidays and some weekends, but she’d fallen in love with one of the big backers of the precursor of what was now the far-right political party ANF, and having a gay daughter was such a big no-no, Juliette was made to understand that she’d be better off not visiting too much.
Nadia had pressed her in the beginning of their relationship to talk about it more, because such rejection, from the people who are supposed to love you the most, at such a vulnerable age still, must have scarred her deeply. But Juliette had always refused to go into it too much. She’d put it behind her. Dealt with it. It had made her stronger and tougher. She didn’t need them anymore. They’d put her through college. They’d fed her and clothed her, and had cared for her when she was a child. They’d done their job. Now, there was nothing tying them together anymore.
“You have done exceptionally well, babe. Despite him.” Nadia re-cradled Juliette in her arms. If she could only take away a fraction of Juliette’s pain by hugging her, she’d hold her forever.
“Fuck him. If he dies today, or tomorrow, or next week, I’ll be sure to drink to that.” Then Juliette started crying. Nadia tightened her embrace, curving her hand around Juliette’s neck and gently pressing her face onto her shoulder.
MARGOT
In Parisian flats, the living room was never far removed from the hallway, and Margot had had no trouble hearing what the commotion by the front door was all about. She’d taken it all in, figuring she should probably say a quick hello to Claire, and be on her way. Then Claire appeared in the living room, and Margot didn’t feel like leaving anymore. Claire still had that effect on her. Perhaps now even more than before. Because they were on the brink of letting it all fall apart, and a lot was at stake.
They stood there staring at each other in silence for a few seconds, until they heard Juliette burst into tears, and it all got too uncomfortable.
“Should you stay with her?” Margot asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll ask in a minute.” Claire looked decidedly disheveled. With a pang of guilt, Margot realised she sort of liked that look on her. “If Juliette wants to be alone with Nadia, I’d like for us to talk.”
“Okay. I’d like that, too.” Margot tried to keep her body language open and the expression on her face welcoming.
&n
bsp; “Let me check.” Claire disappeared behind the corner. Margot didn’t hear a lot of words being exchanged. All she could do was stand there passively, unable to take charge. If she and Claire were going to have a conversation, she’d tell her in no uncertain terms how she felt about the situation. She’d practiced on Nadia. And she was well on her way to being tipsy, which helped.
“We should probably go.” Claire re-appeared in the living room. “Jules is in pretty bad shape.” Claire scanned the room frantically for a second, as though unsure of what to do. “Come to mine?”
“Sure.” Margot grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair and followed Claire.
“No helmet?” Claire asked.
“I’ve been drinking.”
When they reached the hallway, where Nadia and Juliette stood in a tight embrace, Claire put her hand briefly on Juliette’s shoulder. “Take the day off tomorrow.” She then turned to Nadia. “Steph is back.”
“I’m so sorry,” Margot whispered to Juliette, because she had no idea what else to say. She knew what it was like to have a parent doing poorly, but from the words she’d heard Juliette utter earlier, she gathered Juliette and her father weren’t particularly close.
“Her dad is a grade A asshole,” Claire said when they were in the small elevator space. “Cares more about his own reputation than his daughter’s happiness. I don’t think Juliette has mentioned him at all in the past twenty years. I’ve been expecting her to crack ever since her brother delivered the news. Must have hit a raw nerve.”
“Some people.” Margot shook her head.
“Let’s talk about something more cheerful.” Claire had a strange sort of twinkle in her eye.
“What do you have in mind?” Before, Margot would have moved in now. Possibly even shoved Claire against a wall of the dingy lift cage, but that didn’t seem to work for them anymore.
“I do, but let’s wait until we get to mine. It’s only a short walk.” A tingle of curiosity sparked in Margot’s gut. Or was it the possibility of an opening, a way out of their impasse? Could they just move on from their last conversation? Margot certainly didn’t feel like being punished again. She’d had too much wine to mutely take any verbal abuse. If Claire started on her, she would fight back.
By the time they reached Claire’s flat, Margot’s mind was filled to the brim with possibilities of what might happen, but as their short walk had progressed, the possible outcome had gone from quite positive to rather negative. Because, in the end, it all solely hinged on Claire’s ability to forgive.
“More wine? I noticed that bottle you almost emptied at Nadia’s. I may have something similar.” Claire’s tone was too conversational, too casual.
“I probably shouldn’t drink anymore. I’m working tomorrow.” Margot felt like a stranger in this place where she’d spent so much of her time. She didn’t even know if it was appropriate to take off her jacket, then realised she was just nervous, being silly, a bit scared of what might be said. She slipped the leather off her and walked towards the sofa.
“As you wish, but I need a large glass of Médoc.” Claire didn’t turn to fetch a bottle and a glass. Instead, she looked at Margot, her eyes darting around nervously. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said the other day. About getting even. That was out of line. I was lashing out, being unreasonable because—” She stopped there.
“You don’t need to explain.” A huge knot uncoiled in Margot’s stomach. “I understand.”
“It’s just that—” Claire shuffled her weight around a bit. “When I’m with you, I sometimes can’t stand it. And then, when you’re gone, I miss you so bloody much.”
This came close enough to being music to Margot’s ears.
“Honestly, today, before Juliette got the news about her dad, I was talking to her and Steph about us, and I was considering breaking up with you. But now, standing here, face to face, I can’t even begin to imagine that.”
Margot figured this would not be a good time to bring up the conversation she’d had with Nadia. And, despite having had a talk with a frighteningly similar topic, hearing Claire actually say the words ‘breaking up’ cut deep into her soul.
“What can you imagine?” Whatever had driven them back together, despite Margot’s mistake, was still very much present.
“Well…” A mischievous smile slipped over Claire’s lips. “My main issue is that I haven’t been able to surrender.” She took a step closer. “I think you should show me how it’s done.”
Margot emitted an involuntary chuckle that, perhaps, didn’t come across as very encouraging. “What are you saying? You want to tie me to your bed?”
“That would be an excellent start.” Claire nodded and padded even closer. “If you would let me.”
“There are not a lot of things I wouldn’t do to get us back to where we were before.” Margot wasn’t entirely sure she meant it. She was a fan of mind games in the bedroom—and in the bedroom alone—but not necessarily when they were being played on her.
“Good,” Claire said in a semi-confident voice. She was such a bottom. Margot had seen it from the start. Margot knew full well that there was a large grayscale between wanting to dominate and preferring to submit, that it wasn’t a black-and-white affair, and switching was an actual thing, just not an activity she participated in. Claire being so submissive had been an important puzzle piece of the initial attraction between them. That look in her eyes when Margot had tied her up that first time. That hungry glint when Margot had bought handcuffs. And now what? She was just going to reverse their dynamic to prove a point?
“Can you do it though?” Margot couldn’t help but challenge Claire. If she was going to surrender, she wouldn’t do it that easily. She gripped Claire by the wrists in a way that would usually have meant the beginning of foreplay.
“Depends if you let me.” Claire wiggled her wrists free from Margot’s grasp. “I need to see you like that. I need you to let me.”
“What are you going to do to make me?” A charge grew in the air around them. Margot had never considered herself a good actress, but if this was what it took to get Claire back, she’d give it her best shot.
“For starters, I’m going to ask you to undress.” Claire took a step back. “Strip for me.” She locked her blue eyes on Margot’s. “I want to take a good look at those chiseled abs of yours.”
For this to work at all, Margot knew she had to lose a layer of skepticism. She was not someone who liked being told what to do, not under any circumstance, but Claire was still asking rather nicely. She hoped the layer would come off when she peeled off her clothes. She pulled her sweater over her head and stood in front of Claire in just her bra. Staring into Claire’s eyes, she flipped open the button of her jeans. She tried to spot any sign of change in Claire’s glance, but, to Margot’s surprise, Claire wore her mask well. Would she be strapping it on next?
Claire folded her arms across her chest and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other. “Take off your bra first.” Was she able to keep her voice so emotionless because some of her feelings had, indeed, disappeared?
Margot unclasped her bra and let it drop to the floor. With Claire pretending to be so detached, she felt much more vulnerable than she would if the circumstances were different. Baring her skin to the room’s temperature was enough to raise her nipples upward.
“Jeans, please.” Claire painted a smug smile on her face. Was this revenge more than anything? Was she getting even after all? Claire had given herself to Margot completely. Did she want Margot to experience what it felt like to be betrayed afterwards? Should she put a stop to this?
Margot stepped out of her jeans, but kept her panties on. In the past few minutes, the questions in her head had shifted from wondering if she would be able to get off on this to what this actually meant to Claire.
“Come on.” Mostly, it was the unexpected ease with which Claire seemed to exercise control. “No need to be shy now,” Claire said. Margot thought she would actuall
y blush. But she complied. On a level she wasn’t entirely in touch with yet, this whole scene thrilled her also.
Completely naked, Margot stood in Claire’s living room, waiting for her next command.
“Go into the bedroom. Lie down. Don’t touch anything.” Claire sighed. “I need a drink first.”
CLAIRE
Claire had no idea what she was doing. She was so out of her depth, she needed a break. The funny thing was that this was actually working. Margot was submitting to her wishes, doing exactly as she was told without so much as a whimper of objection. Claire watched Margot saunter off to the bedroom wordlessly, her bare feet slapping the hardwood floor. She’d reasoned that, if it was impossible for them to engage in their usual bedroom routine, turning the tables might help. Thinking about it had been much easier though. Not that relinquishing control to another person was easy, but she felt a new sort of respect for Margot and her dominant ways.
Respect. At least that wasn’t all gone.
Even stranger was that Claire was enjoying the minutes she made Margot wait idly in her bedroom. She poured herself a glass from an open bottle of wine in the kitchen, but only sipped from it once. Maybe Margot complied so easily because she’d had a few. Still, thrills of anticipation chased through Claire’s blood. What would she do next? There was no plan here. Claire hadn’t expected to find Margot at Nadia and Juliette’s flat. But after seeing her there, she’d felt that familiar rush in her blood, and the idea to reverse the roles had sparked.
She headed to the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, scrutinising Margot as she lay there in the half-light. By god, she was beautiful. Her skin tone contrasted deliciously with the pale colour of the sheets and her hair fell dark and heavy onto the pillows. But what stood out most of all, was that defiant sparkle in her eyes. That ever-present pout of almost-disapproval of Margot’s lips and how, when she smiled, her face changed completely. Into something unexpected at first, as though Margot’s face was not meant for smiling, until it all burst open and her features broke out into unseen radiance. Claire hadn’t witnessed that smile in a long time.
